


Not As Expected

by emansil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emansil/pseuds/emansil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war was over, many people thought they knew what their future was going to bring. Sometimes things don’t always turn out as we expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not As Expected

**Author's Note:**

> Written for HD_Career Fair 2012

Not as Expected

 

“‘Nevra,” my boss, Draco Malfoy, called for me from inside his studio.

‘Nevra. That’s his name for me, or at least it had been since I’d started working for him. Why he calls me that, I never fully understood. Something about not wanting the present or future to be influenced by the past. I just deposited it along with some of his other idiosyncrasies, of which there were many, into my heart. Either way, it was at least an improvement over the former ‘Weaselette'.

I paused, waiting to see if he would call again. A hysterical and vapid Draco had taught me not to invade the sacred space of the studio, unless and until specifically invited. I’d made that mistake once; I planned on never doing it again. 

“I’m on to something and I’ll need to remain in here for a while. Can you watch the front of the shop? Blaise has already left for the day,” he said, his voice muffled by the door that separated us. 

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the comment about Zabini. Blaise had once again returned to his wife Daphne, professing his undying love. I doubted his faithfulness, though. Somehow, he always seemed to find his way back to Draco’s bed. Even so, Draco let Blaise get away with more late arrivals and early departures than most of the other employees. Still I said nothing. Draco was already well aware of what I thought on the subject. I’d never been one to hold back on my opinions. But this was a horse that had long been buried. It did no one any good to attempt to bring it back from the dead. 

“What about Millicent? Why can’t she watch the shop? I’m not a shopkeeper. I’m your test flyer. You pay me bloody good Galleons for that!” I responded in a bit of a huff, and waited for the mini-explosion I knew was coming. 

I didn’t have long to wait. I hadn’t meant it, and we both knew it. Still we enjoyed getting a rise out of the other. 

“‘Nevra Weasley! I do pay you bloody good Galleons, which means I can bloody well ask you to bloody well do anything I bloody well want you to!” Draco shouted through the closed door, his voice no longer muffled. 

I said nothing.

Silence came from the other side of the door.

Again I remained mute, but began to count silently. “One, two, three…” I’d barely arrived at six when a small and exasperated voice on the other side of the door said, “‘Nevra, please.” 

“Alright,” I answered happily, and went into the back to grab a cup of coffee before going to the front.

If anyone would have told either of us five years ago that the day would come when Draco Malfoy and I'd be the best of friends, we’d both have hexed the spokesperson with the strongest spells the two of us could think of. With our backgrounds the spells would have been powerful indeed. 

That was then, and this was now. Draco Malfoy and I, ‘Nevra, or Ginny or just Gin Weasley were undoubtedly the best of friends. What had started as a pure business arrangement had blossomed into deep and abiding affection, a truth that took both Harry and my brother Ron, a very long time to accept and understand. Ron still struggles with it. Not everything has changed. Hermione helps him through the more difficult aspects. Like I said, some things remain the same.

I poured a cup of coffee from the urn and taste tested it as I headed for the front. I grimaced; the stuff was foul, but it was too late in the day to brew any fresh. Magicked coffee was even worse than over brewed coffee, so that option was out as well. 

Just as I arrived at the counter the front bell rang. I looked up and smiled happily as Harry, my ex, walked into the store. 

“Harry, what brings you here? Not that I’m not thrilled to see you,” I amended quickly. “Did you come to gaze longingly at our afternoon shop boy aka Blaise?” I laughed as Harry blushed then looked indignant.

“Blaise Zabini is completely and totally straight. We both know that.” Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that but saw no reason to tell Harry any different. “Why would I come, to, what was it you said, ‘gaze longingly at him?”

“Yes, but you have to admit he’s a rather handsome young man. Isn’t he?”

Harry sighed and nodded. “Yes, he is that.” 

“Speaking of boy-toys, how’s your latest?” I asked as I hopped onto the counter. Draco would shit about eight bricks if he saw me. Happily this was an act of insurrection he would never see. 

Harry snorted indignantly. “Dean is not a boy-toy,” he said, then sobered and his face grew forlorn. “Besides he’s not my anything anymore. He and Seamus are back together.”

“Oh Harry, I’m sorry. What happened?”

Harry looked down and then up at me, through thick, black and impossibly long lashes. “He said I was too boring. He’d thought that having two quiet and introverted people in a relationship was going to be relaxing and comfortable. Instead he said it was like eating white bread toast with no butter or marmalade every day, the same thing over and over.” 

Harry paused and turned to me. His face was so sad I wanted to clasp him to my breast, such as it was, and hug the stuffing out of him. Never let it be said I was not my mother’s daughter. Then his smile went a bit crooked and he said, “He called me a piece of toast. I don’t know that I’ve ever been compared to food before.”

“Who’s comparing you to food, and what poor unfortunate edible has had the misfortune of being compared to you?” Draco asked from the right of me. I hadn’t heard the studio door open, and from the way Harry was reacting, I guessed he hadn’t either. 

Harry lowered his head and a tell-tale blush appeared along the part of his skin I could still see. Intriguing, I thought. He appeared to have developed a fascination with an invisible speck on the floor.

Seeing that Harry was not going to answer, I did. “Dean said that being in a relationship with Harry was like eating white toast, with no butter or marmalade.”

“Orange or grapefruit” Draco asked as he came the rest of the way into the room. The scent of beeswax and sandalwood surrounded him; obviously he’d been spending part of the time in the studio polishing the handles. He did that when he had a problem he was trying to solve. I wondered if he’d found the solution. 

“What?” Harry and I both gaped at him. At least the comment had distracted Harry from his fascination with the floor.

“Well, if it’s orange marmalade, then I wouldn’t worry too much, the man’s obviously a plebeian. The fact that he’s back with Finnigan should be proof enough of that. Orange is dull and boring, but grapefruit… well that’s another thing entirely, if it’s made the right way, that is, with a little cinnamon and cardamom.”

Well, well, well, isn’t that interesting. Draco had just made a reference to one of Harry’s signature jams. 

We waited to see if Draco had anything else to say. Apparently he didn’t. I looked over to see Harry gazing rather confused and expectantly at Draco, a small smile on his face. Draco, realizing what he had said, in turn seemed to have found that same invisible speck on the floor Harry had stared at earlier. 

I looked, but try as I might, I could find nothing of interest on the floor. 

The impasse lasted several moments. Harry looked at Draco; Draco looked at the floor. As for myself, I rather felt like the ball in a tennis match. My gaze bounced back and forth between the two of them. 

Finally, thank heavens, Draco’s head snapped up. “‘Nevra and I were just going to dinner. Care to join us, Potter?” he sad as he crossed to room to tuck his elbow into mine. 

“We were?” I asked. It was the first I’d heard of it.

“Of course we were. Don’t you remember? Of course, if you’ve changed your mind... “

I looked over at him, snarky, fearful, superior, needy, brilliant, forgetful, all the things that made me love him; he wanted me to say yes. He wanted dinner with Harry, but needed me to come with them. 

It was Harry’s turn to receive my attention. Wordlessly he begged me, begged me to say yes to dinner with him and Draco. This was getting more and more interesting. 

“Well, how can I say no, when I’m given the chance to spend time with my two favourite wizards at the same time. Besides, I’m starving. Let’s go.” 

 

***

 

After that first dinner at the Leaky with the three of us, my social life had taken off. I’d not been this busy in months. One or the other, Harry or Draco, or both, were inviting me out for just about every meal. While good for my purse -- they always paid -- it was beginning to play havoc with my figure. 

So popular had I become with the two of them it would be understandable if I’d thought they were courting me, but for the fact, I was very aware they were both gay. After all, Harry and I were no longer together because of it. And well, let’s just say, Draco wasn’t always the best at silencing spells. Plus the fact that 90 per cent of all conversations were spent talking about the other, or asking questions about the other, or trying to think of ways to subtly talk about the other one without my realizing what they were doing.

Seriously, did they think I was that oblivious?

 

***

 

Ding a ling a ling. My stroll down memory lane were interrupted by someone entering the shop. I turned to greet Harry, the one person, non-family, that could compete with Draco in my affections.

The break up with Harry had been the hardest thing I’d ever had to go through. I knew it was the right thing, knew he didn’t love me, but the thought of losing him in my life was unthinkable. Fortunately, he had finally done and said what I’d been too frightful of. Our ending had broken my heart until I realised it wasn’t an ending at all, just a new beginning.

I tried to hate him. I really did, but hating Harry is something he simply wouldn’t allow me to do. Like a cross between an over-enthusiastic Crup and a mood-enhancing Pygmy Puff, he was always there. Death had claimed too many of those he had loved, and he refused to lose any more people, simply because of a change in a relationship. He completely spurned the idea of no longer being a part of my life. Owls continued to fly back and forth between us, and late night fire-calls kept us both up talking and laughing into the wee hours, leaving us both bleary eyed the next morning. 

Sweet, funny, and loving, he was the same Harry he had always been. He just wasn’t my Harry anymore. 

He became, or rather continued to be, protective as well and even though I already had five brothers for that position, and although we were no longer together, he seemed to feel it was his job to serve as my protector.

It was around that time I started my employment with Braxus’ Brooms. My position at the Holyhead Harpies had been short lived. A younger, smaller and faster player from Pakistan had taken my position. The Quidditch board determined it would open up the game to allow players from other counties to try out for the positions. The perky paki beat me fair and share. Oh, I’m not being catty or prejudicial – that’s her name; or rather that’s her Quidditch name, ‘The Perky Paki.’ 

Harry and I were no longer together. We were moving house. Returning home to live, with my mum constantly shaking her head and tut-tutting at what I could have done to cause Harry, her favourite son, who was not actually her son, to break it off with me, was something I just could not face. 

I’d needed a new job, a new flat and money to pay for it. Braxus’ Brooms had offered the solution. 

Harry grinned at me as he came in the door, the grin that still made me happier than was normal, but in a totally different way. I ran to him and jumped into his wide-spread arms. True, I’d only just seen him three days ago at Hermione’s birthday bash, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t overjoyed each time. 

“Harry, it’s so good to see you. Are you here for anything special?” 

“I thought I’d see if you would like to go for a pint, but since you’re at the counter I guess you’re not available.” As he spoke his eyes wondered around the front of the shop towards the back where the studio was.

“Where’s Draco?” he tried to ask nonchalantly, but I knew better.

Harry had developed a bit of a crush on my boss. He thought I was unaware, but honestly, I hadn't been his girl for four and a half years without picking up on a few of the signs. 

“He’s in the back, in the sacred space of the studio. Got some super-duper design he’s working on,” I answered. “Either that or he’s back there wanking to his new favourite, rhubarb and honeysuckle, the latest flavour from James’s Jams and Jellies.”

Harry blushed and I laughed again as I gave him a bit of nudge on the shoulder. “You should go back there and make sure he’s okay.” 

The war and Draco’s family role in it had had surprisingly little consequences for them. The winning side had not wanted to give those on the losing side a chance for resentment and hostility to smoulder and perhaps resurface in the years to come. There was some monetary restitution in the form of payment for damages done. Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, the Ministry itself along with a few other locations received some rebuilding monies. Other than that, most of those who had sided with Voldemort were left alone. Lucius Malfoy served three years house arrest, in the manor. Draco and his mother, along with some others, were given community service. After that they were left alone. 

The DMLE may have thought they had paid their dues, but the wizarding public was not one to easily forgive or forget. 

Draco Malfoy could have returned to the role of Lord of the manor. He chose differently, however. Part of Draco’s sentence was apprentice to Quality Quidditch Supplies where he learned the skills to make the best brooms. His own skills as a flyer helped in the design as well. His brooms really were the best, even Ron and Harry had to agree.

He’d never outgrown the love of flying, the need to go higher, faster and capable of more twists and turns and loops than was usual or even safe. 

Unfortunately, circumstances of which there were many, kept him from obtaining an actual position on a Quidditch team. Instead he found another way. His talent at potions and Arithmancy indicated a scientific mind. Hermione had pointed out that in the Muggle world engineering or even architecture would have been good career choice for him. Draco had taken that information and decided to purse engineering and building the most advance Quidditch brooms. Going one step further, he’d studied Muggle computer technology, and was finding ways to blend magic and technology in new and innovative ways. Passionate and determined he continued to design and build the absolutely best Quidditch brooms. 

Draco may be many things, but stupid he wasn’t. He knew no one would buy from Draco’s or Malfoy’s brooms. Instead he named his business ‘Braxus’ Brooms’ after his grandfather. 

My job is to test each of his broom designs. While exciting, this is not an easy or safe job. I wound up in St. Mungo’s so often they teased me about giving me a frequent visitor discount. The injuries are slight, but they do require a healer’s touch. Draco’s taken several base healing training courses, but he was like Harry in that aspect: they’re both really horrible at healing spells. 

 

***

 

A few weeks later, while waiting for the second pot of coffee to brew, I heard the shop bell ring. Technically we were still closed. The store front person for the day, Malcolm Baddock, had not even arrived yet, which was no surprise. Barely twenty years old, Braddock liked to party. Arriving on time was a concept he struggled with daily. 

Harry. I didn’t even bother to turn around. I knew it was him. 

I’d grown so tired of being called from the back where I listened to Draco explain each new design or quirk of the design, or disaster of a new design to open the door to Harry, that I’d finally just recast the wards to include him. 

This was his fifth visit to the studio this week, three for breakfast and two for afternoon tea. I’d never thought I’d ever think this, but TGIF, as the Muggles say. I love Harry, honestly I do, but I don’t think I saw him this much when we were still together.

Harry, too, had taken a different direction after Hogwarts. He’d tried the Auror route but had given it up after the first year. Perhaps I should have realised other changes would soon be on the horizon. He’d had his fill of chasing after bad guys, and doing what was expected of him. He was done. Let someone else take on that role. Harry, in the saviour role, was taking an early retirement.

Harry loved to cook, more importantly, he loved to eat, sweet things especially. Determined to make a living at it, he’d experimented with a few things. Different flavoured combination treacle tarts were his first experiment. To his chagrin he discovered working with the sticky substance was nowhere near as pleasant as eating it. When the cauldron he was cooking it in exploded, there wasn't a wizard powerful enough anywhere in the British Isles to remove all the remnants of the mess. Who knew that a temperature one degree too high could cause that the cauldron to explode? Luckily, he managed to lower the temperature of the mess that had struck him just in time. But weeks later, when he was still finding bits of dried treacle on his body and in his hair, he’d decided a change was needed.

At least that was the explanation he’d given me one evening when I arrived at the cottage. Bowls and baskets and tubs of fruit covered ever flat surface available in the kitchen. Pots and pans and cauldrons bubbled vigorously on the stove and on the floor. Sweet scents of fresh fruit and spicy aroma of delectable spices filled the air. Harry was making jam, and a new career was born.

‘James’s Jams and Jellies’ became a surprising hit in both the Muggle and the Wizarding world. Only a few close friends, and now Draco it seemed, knew that Harry was the genius behind them. He wanted the jams to sell because of their taste, not because of his name on the label. Quince and Jalapeno, Mango and Wasabi were some of his more exotic flavours. Muscadine Grape with Lemon Thyme was the newest and was making a bid for top sales. Recently, he and Draco had begun discussing the possibility of using magical potion ingredients as well. It was still in the planning stages.

Each time Harry came, tucked into his basket were new flavours for Draco and me to try. Well, he said he brought them for me to try, but he knew sweets had never been my thing. Even the savoury ones were too sweet for my taste. Draco, on the other hand, was completely addicted to the stuff. He put so much sugar in his morning coffee the spoon could almost stand upright on its own. As for the jams and preserves that Harry brought to sample, I’ve caught Draco eating the stuff straight from the jar. He knew I had seen, and I knew he knew, but neither of us ever said a word about it. 

“Hey Ginny,” Harry said with a grin and damned if that grin still didn’t make my heart melt, just the tiniest bit.

“I’ve brought breakfast for you guys. I’ve a new flavour I would like Draco to try, you too of course,” he added in a rush. Did he really think I wouldn’t notice? I didn’t even have to look, he was blushing, I just knew. Harry blushed every time he came to see Draco, but tried to pretend he didn’t. 

Concentrating on something else, I muttered, “He’s in the back.” Harry knew the way. 

The first time he’d barged into the sacred space of the studio – with a basket of food products, especially jams – without an invitation, I’d expected nothing less than a full-on Draco detonation. I’d waited outside the door prepared to have to pick pieces of Harry off the ceiling. Instead I’d heard nothing but soft voices and quiet laughter. 

Harry’s footsteps crossed the room and I heard the door close behind him. Moments later I remembered. Cormac McLaggen was back there with Draco. Harry and Cormac had once had a brief and horrid fling. It had ended badly, very badly. Harry’s new, forgive and forget attitude had not been extended to Cormac. 

Cormac was Draco’s latest on-again, off-again shag. While Draco was somewhat taken with Cormac, he was Cormac’s dirty little secret. Cormac was straight, or so he claimed in his Quidditch bio for the Tutshill Tornados. He used Braxus' Brooms exclusively, and if he liked to stick his cock up Draco’s arse occasionally, he seemed to feel that was no one’s concern but his. Never mind that each time he left Draco’s bed to return to his wife and brand new baby boy, Draco was devastated. 

Once my brain had finally caught up with what I had just done, I wanted to kick myself. Merlin only knew what Harry was going to walk into.

Fuck, I was an idiot. Harry had been wearing his heart on his sleeve for the past weeks. I knew he was smitten. I recognized the signs. Tripping over the stool I’d been sitting on I ran to the studio, in time to watch, in heartbreak, as Harry backed out of the studio door and dropped the basket. Fresh hot bread and scones tumbled across the floor, pats of butter fell face down leaving greasy smears , and jars of jam shattered sending shards of glass and the sticky substance everywhere. The smell of freshly baked bread and Damson plums with warm South African vanilla was making my mouth water. That’s going to be a bitch to clean, and Harry’s outdone himself this time, slipped into my mind unbidden. But really I didn’t have time for much thought. 

Harry ran past me, emotion clear on his face, but whether it was pain or anger, I wasn’t quite sure. I doubted if he knew either. 

The door to the outside led to where the test brooms were kept, the ones not yet approved, as well as those not yet tested. Only one broom was currently resting against the outside wall. Draco had told me the broom was not yet ready. There were still some flaws in the design and in the magic that he needed to fix before it was safe to be tested. He had no doubt that it was to be his fastest and quickest to respond broom but like all things with this much power, it needed lessons. 

In horror I watched as Harry, his face red, his chest heaving with emotion, grabbed the broom and leapt for the sky.

Pausing or knocking before bursting into Draco’s studio was not even considered. I needed Draco. Harry needed Draco. I could not care less about what I might be interrupting. Draco was a fool if he allowed the big oaf to touch him, yet again. And I would tell him so once the Harry crisis was over. Draco was such a sucker for those that would break his heart, first Blaise and now Cormac. Both straight males who liked to get a little cock on the side before going back to their straight life, and denigrating the supposed horrors of homosexuality. Every night I lay in bed and schemed of hexing their cocks off and their mouths closed. 

I only knew of these two; but suspected that there had been others. Draco liked sex. No, he loved sex, or so he told me on a daily, sometimes hourly basis. Loved being buggered or being the one doing the buggering, he didn’t much care which. Either was fine with him. As long it happened regularly. That was why he put up with being treated badly. He also admitted to being a bit of a size queen. Rumour had it that Cormac was, well, very well endowed in certain areas. Draco, over a few too many pints, had one night shared with me that if he couldn’t have who he wanted, meaning Blaise, he might as well go for size, meaning Cormac. But Draco also wanted someone who was not ashamed or afraid to admit to caring for him. As soon as he'd find that one, Cormac was history. 

All that was neither here nor there. I needed Draco, now. Bursting into the room, prepared for almost anything, I was somewhat taken aback as Draco about knocked me down as he rushed from the room. His eyes full of fear; panic on his face, he said one word only. “Harry?”

“Harry took the broom,” I gasped in response. 

At first Draco looked confused then he visibly relaxed, relieved. I had to make sure he understood. 

“He took the Broom, the one not tested, the one not ready.” 

He stopped and spun around to me. Comprehension crossed his face and I knew at last he understood. I nodded. 

We raced to the shed where the other brooms were stored, Draco several steps in front of me. His long legs lengthened the space between us, and I knew he’d be gone before I got there. I didn’t allow this to stop me or slow me down though. 

Panic suffused Draco’s face immediately as he Accio'ed the brooms. Barely had the brooms reached him when he leapt on to his and zoomed off to find Harry. Fear filling my gut, I did the same. 

It did not take long; Draco always put a personal trace on each of his projects, only removing them once the brooms were sold. The trace led us directly to Harry and the out of control broom.

It was obvious Harry was in trouble. No matter what he did, how he tried to manoeuvre, the broom seemed to have a mind of its own. I watched in dread as it careened here and there, flying straight up, then straight down, going left when Harry pointed it right. Hanging on for dear life, Harry’s fear became more evident with each gyration of the broom. 

“Draco, what’s wrong with that broom? What have you done?” I screamed. He may be my newest best mate, but I’d cared for Harry longer. I was a mother bear protecting her own.

“I’ve done nothing. The spells and charms and the micro-chip for that particular broom aren’t finished. They’re not stable. I told you that.” Something in his voice brought chills to me. I turned. Pale and frightened Draco tried to get closer to Harry. I followed. 

“Draco, what aren’t you telling me?” My voice tore from me as a sudden burst of wind buffeted us. How I’d failed to notice I didn’t know, but there was a storm approaching, fast. Thick, dark and grey clouds were moving towards us. Still Harry fought the broom. 

“The broom is set to follow thoughts and emotions, not words or the direction you point it in,” Draco shouted back over the howling of the wind.

“What? I don’t understand.”

“If you’re riding it and you start thinking of how much you’d like a pint at the Leaky, it will attempt to take you to the Leaky. No matter how much you may direct, or even tell it to go somewhere different, it won’t.”

“That’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard. Are you an idiot?” I screamed at him. 

“I think perhaps I am. That’s why I’ve not had you test it yet. It needs some work. Not only that, it also reads your emotions. Emotions that you may not even be aware of.” We were drawing close enough to be able to hear Harry.

“I know what I heard,” Harry snarled, his voice taut with emotion, as the broom continued to flail out of control.

“No, you just think you know what you heard. You didn’t hear the beginning, nor did you wait around long enough to hear the end. You just heard the middle,” Draco yelled back, his voice frantic with worry. Even from the distance I could hear it. I had also noticed the pain in Harry’s voice. 

“You said you loved him. How could I have been so stupid to think I had a chance with you? You’ll never care for me.” 

As if it had been waiting for these words the broom suddenly shot upward, throwing Harry as it went higher and higher. Somehow he managed to save himself by catching the handle with one hand, but the handle was well oiled and slippery. Draco and I both screeched, “NO!” as we chased after Harry, flying as fast as we could. The wind whipped our hair as we reached out, trying to grab the broom, or Harry if he should lose his grip on the handle. Both of us were flying fast as we could. 

Somehow Harry managed to climb back on, his face pale, his hair plastered to his head with sweat. 

“Potter, you bloody fucking idiot. Stop saying that. Stop implying that. Fuck, stop thinking that. Do you realize how insanely stupid you are to think that you would come in second to anyone, especially an oaf like Cormac?” The thought that perhaps Draco could have chosen his words better, was fast and fleeting, too much else was happening.

So close to the tail of the rampaging broom, I could almost feel the bristles against my fingertips. Suddenly Harry’s broom stopped and I overshot it. Struggling to bring my flight back under control I could only gasp in panic as Harry’s broom spun and plummeted downward. 

Harry’s broom, sleek and fast, was one of Braxus' Brooms most dangerous and fastest ever inventions, and it was heading towards a disastrous meeting with the earth. Draco sped after it. 

I raced to keep up with the other two. I had not been recruited by the Holyhead Harpies for nothing. I was fast and I knew it, but I couldn’t keep up with them. How Draco was keeping pace with Harry I didn’t know, but deep inside I understood. This was one race Draco could not afford to let Harry win.

“Harry, I’m sorry. I do care. I’m an idiot. Please, please listen to me.” I barely heard him, but hoped with all of my heart and soul that Harry could. 

The words came at me, hit or miss, the wind and the distance fracturing them before they reached me. I was able to hear enough to put it all together. Like a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces I could still make out what Draco was screaming into the wind.

Still Harry did not seem to hear, or maybe he heard but refused to believe. He was such an idiot at times. His broom spun wildly out of control. No, that wasn’t exactly true. Sometimes it flew straight and Harry seemed to have control. Then he lost it, and it flailed wildly again.

I lowered my body to the handle and taking a deep breath, sped toward them.

“Harry, please listen,” I heard Draco say, his voice shaking with emotion. “What you heard was me saying goodbye to Cormac, I was telling him that I had loved him, or thought I had, but I’d found someone better. I’d found someone one who wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen with me.”

Harry’s head snapped up at that, and he looked over at Draco as if he had lost his mind. “Why would anyone ever be like that? You’re fucking amazing. I’d never be ashamed to be seen with you.”

I smiled when I heard Harry’s words. He truly was smitten. 

“Someone who really cares for me,” Draco continued, but this time he and Harry were looking directly at the other. “Someone I think I could grow to love. I’m not sure yet, but I would like it if he gave me a chance to find out for sure.”

Draco kept talking, emotion speeding up his speech, “Harry, please. Look, I don’t know. I need time, but if I was to love anyone it would be you. I was afraid to admit it. What if something happened, what if you didn’t love me back, or what if you stopped loving me? I don’t think I could take that kind of hurt, but I realised that loving you and maybe having you love me back, even only for a short time, is worth the risk. Harry, please believe me.”

Was I imagining things, or was Harry’s broom slowing down? Did the slight tilt of Harry’s head indicate he was listening? And even more important was he believing what he heard? Was Draco telling the truth? I’d bloody well hex the fuck out of him if he wasn’t and after that I’d beat the bloody fuck out of him. Six older brothers had taught me a lot about defence and offence, both magical and not. 

Suddenly the broom went erratic again, as Harry yelled, “But you kissed him!”

“No. He kissed me. You did not see me kiss him back, did not see me push him away. Fucking Gryffindor hero, bloody wizarding world saviour, you left me there to fight him off myself.” Again the fear and anger was making Draco say things he didn’t mean, at least I hoped he didn’t. 

“He forced himself on you?” Harry raged. “He tried to make you do something you didn’t want? I fucking kill him.” His face showed that the fury was consuming him. If anything let loose the wild magic of Harry Potter, it was the thought of someone he cared for being hurt. I couldn’t fathom how he could control it.

Apparently, he couldn’t. I watched in horror as the broom spun around and again headed straight for the ground, at a speed neither of us could even begin to keep up with. Not even Harry in his prime could have caught it. Try as hard as we might, we could only watch in paralysed shock as his broom struck the earth, bouncing and flipping over and over until it lay still, intact and unhurt. Braxus’ brooms were built to sustain most anything. 

The same could not be said for Harry. He laid perfectly still, his glasses several feet away, where they had flown from his head, his face bleeding where it had scraped against the ground before the force of the landing had propelled him over. His right leg lay at an angle under him that was in no way natural. My heart rose into my throat and I was stunned silent and petrified. 

Draco’s scream broke my frozen state. Barely had he landed when I was right there next to him and we were stabilising Harry to take him to St. Mungo’s.

 

***

 

That broom was dangerous, actually it was deadly. People could not always control what they thought or felt. Things happened and our well-balanced lives got thrown completely off kilter. The broom needed to be destroyed. I resolved to tell Draco that. Tell him there was no way I would be test-flying that particular broom.

I turned on my heel, determined to do just that, then slowed, a smile spreading across my face. Tucked away in the far corner of the studio, Harry and Draco sat talking. Their voices were soft and earnest. Harry had recovered from his injuries, but the healers still wanted him to be resting. Draco’s hands gestured, as they always did when he tried to explain something. When he was worried he’d fail to make the other understand. Harry sat quietly, not speaking, simply listening. But his fascination with his shoelaces was a dead giveaway that he was hearing every word Draco was saying. 

As I watched, Harry raised his head and smiled at Draco. Draco lowered his arms and spoke a few more words. Harry nodded and moved forward, Draco raised his hands and arms once again, but only long enough to wrap them around Harry and pull him closer. Draco continued talking. I was still too far away to hear, but then I heard Draco say, “Your cock, my arse,” and Harry suddenly burst out laughing. I felt an irresistible urge to do an Irish jig. They moved towards one another until their lips touched. How long they stayed that way I’m not sure. This was a private moment between them. 

I decided to head back to the practice fields and storage facility. The terrifying flight after Harry left me craving a more relaxed flight. A fluttering of wings caught my attention. Pansy’s owl was heading my way. After I’d read her message and responded, I was feeling much better about my plans for the evening. 

Pondering whether I should wear the black lingerie she liked so much, or maybe something a bit more demure, I thought I heard laughter. Pansy loved it when people dressed reticent, but were anything but. It drove her a bit mad. 

I’d about decided on periwinkle when Draco screamed with laughter and nervousness, “Potter, don’t be so bloody happy! You’re going to get us killed.” Turning around I saw that sure enough two of them were on the broom, and it was heading straight to the heavens with loop de loops and whirl a gigs never-ending as it flew. 

I laughed out loud; joy in my heart that at last my two BFF’s were finally together.

Tomorrow. I’d tell Draco about destroying the broom tomorrow. 

 

The End


End file.
